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#precious from the silence of the lambs

yandere-writer-momo · 5 months

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Yandere Baki Short Stories: Just Let Me Adore You

Yandere Jack Hanma x Burlesque Dancer Afab Reader

For @lex90112 who requested Baki men with a burlesque reader

TW: yandere behavior, dubcon, adult themes, and murder (mentioned)

Now Jack was not a man driven by lust or women. He never had an interest in earthly pleasures… until now.

Jack had no business being in a gentleman’s club but the temptation of cheap drinks and his curiosity of what lied inside lead him in here. And lo and behold, he saw her.

Jack has never seen a burlesque performance before but he was entranced. The giant white feather fans enraptured him in their seductive dance. His cinnamon colored eyes stayed locked on her form that reminded him of a bird that was making an attempt to enchant a potential mate.

The plumage teased his hungry eyes until the beautiful woman was revealed underneath. His breath hitched and his palms began to sweat. Jack was utterly bewitched. He couldn’t look away from her performance no matter how much he wanted to reign his self control back in. A primal feeling had taken ahold of him.

The snow white garments made her appear to be a lamb amongst wolves. Her shy smile and gazes made something stir in his loins as she danced for the predatory gazes all around her. How could someone be so cute yet so delish tempting to ravage?

When she slowly began to shed off her clothing, he shuddered when one of her garments now laid on his lap. The scent of her sweet perfume overwhelmed his senses and it took everything in him not to bury his nose in them.

Jack had a lump form in his throat when she blew a kiss in his general direction- no. She blew a kiss at him. And now it took everything in him not to jump on that stage to steal her away from this life of lustful gazes and wolf whistles. She deserved better.

The poor man had fallen in love at first sight and he would pursue her with unrestrained madness like a wolf lusting for a lamb. Jack wanted to steal her away from himself.

And so Jack became a regular to his lamb’s performance. Jack had found out her name is (your name) and they were close in age.

Jack kept every snow white garment thrown at him by her since it was a gift she willingly gave to him. His cinnamon eyes burned every kiss blown at him into his permanent memory.

Sometimes Jack liked to imagine that she only danced for his eyes to see. That her smiles and flirty glances were only reserved for him.

Jack should know better but he couldn’t help it. He’s been alone for so many years now that he couldn’t help but be entranced by the idea of having someone at his side. Desire had taken ahold of his heart and body.

Since his desire to be the strongest hadn’t worked out, why not have a new purpose? A purpose to protect his precious lamb from slaughter?

Too bad Jack hadn’t taken competition into equation…

Jack felt his jaw clench when he over head some men talk about his lamb in the after hours of the night. Their lewd perversions disgusted him. How dare they speak of her in such a way… she was so much more than a piece of meat.

It was when they spoke of plans of sexual assault that made Jack decide to step forth as her self proclaimed protector. No one will touch a hair on her head so long as he breathes. Jack was willing to kill for her.

Jack felt his fist clench and then unclench. He wasn’t going to let them trash her name. And that’s when he stalked forward. His large form towered over the men’s smaller forms.

“What the hell are you looking at?”

“Some corpses.”

A few screams filled the night air and then silence.

“That blond giant is here again to see you dance.” (Your name) hummed at her manager’s words. She wasn’t surprised by this news. She knew he’d be here, he always was over the last few months.

His predatory gaze made her feel more bare than the few pieces of lingerie she wore. She knew if she got too close to that wolf then he would devour her whole. So she made sure to keep his hunger satiated with small tokens of herself. Lest she wanted to end up on the stage and eaten before everyone’s eyes.

“I think that Jack guy is in love with you.” (Your name)’s manager whispered softly, their eyes filled with concern. “He’s a terrifying man. We can go to a new club if you’d like. One far from here before he tries something.”

(Your name) shook her head and smiled at her manager. “He’s my biggest tipper. I’d hate to lose such a loyal regular.”

“But he’s… ugly.” Her manager whispered. “And his eyes look like they want to swallow you whole.”

It seems many people were aware of the blonde man’s lust for her. Perhaps she should take this into consideration? Then again, (your name) was no lamb like everyone believed. No… she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She used the lust of men to pay off a debt she owed and she was nearly done with it.

“I can handle him.” (Your name) smiled at her manager with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll be just fine.”

A shame she had underestimated the giant man. Perhaps the tragedy wouldn’t have befallen her if she had just ran while she still could.

(Your name)’s eyes widened at the large amount of money presented to her. Her regular wanted a private dance… and he had plaid twice the amount required for one.

“I can’t save you if you accept…” her manager whispered with sad eyes. “But I know you need this money…”

(Your name) took a hold of her manager’s hands. “I’ll be fine. I’ll giving him a dance if that is what he would like.”

Yes… one more dance and she’d be out of this life. That’s all she would need…

“Tell him I’ll do it. I’ll meet him at the address.” Her manager solemnly nodded and gave her one last glance.

“Please be safe.”

(Your name) was pulled into a searing kiss so strong, she felt her lips bruise. Large hands eagerly explored her body as the giant man trembled above her. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. It was just meant to be a dance and yet he pounced on her like a hungry lion the moment her cover came off.

“You’re mine now.” Jack huskily whispered in her ear, his fingers eagerly tugged at her lingerie. “And I want to give you all of me…”

(Your name) gasped when he pressed something big into her bottom. He was massive… she could count on one hand how many people she’s been with but he was so much bigger than all of them. And he seemed more eager to please…

“Jack, I don’t know if we should-“ (your name) was pulled into another eager kiss. Her lingerie now pooled around her feet as his hands cupped her chest and his body shook.

“Please… please take my virginity.” Jack muttered into her neck. “I want you to have me. I want to be yours.”

Jack’s movements were clumsy yet they showed restraint. (Your name) glanced into this face and rather than seeing a man with a starving gaze, she saw a scared child. This giant man before her was lost and his heart screamed for love. It broke her heart… she didn’t want to imagine the things he had been through in his life. But she was willing to be his solace for a night.

(Your name) gently took his face in her hands and stroked her thumbs over his scarred cheeks. His eyes watered a bit and his body still trembled like a leaf but his gaze was filled with admiration for her. Something she wasn’t used to seeing on a man of his stature.

“Okay. You can have me.” She was stolen away to his room in an instant.

She was tossed onto his bed like a doll while his hands quickly began to shed his clothes. All of him was massive and scarred but there was something attractive about him. It stirred something primal in her but that could also be since she hasn’t had sex in a long time.

(Your name) gasped when he shaved his face between her legs, her fingers tried to grasp at his short blonde locks. His tongue eagerly lapped at her wet folds to try to please. Eager to taste. Eager to own.

Her soft whimpers only encouraged him to devour her even more. His long tongue thrusted in and out of her warmth while his nose bumped against her clit. His eyes rolled back at the sweet taste. He was in heaven…

When her body convulsed and her thighs wrapped around his head, he knew he had successfully pleased her but Jack wanted more.

Jack wanted to explore all of her. He moved his mouth up from her privates to kiss up her stomach and to her chest. His lips wrapped around her left nipple to give it a harsh suck, a loud cry escaped her lips.

“More… I want more please.” She didn’t have to tell him twice. He clumsily lined himself up before he pressed himself in. A groan escaped his lips at the damp tightness that clenched around his length. He wasn’t even halfway in yet and he could feel the back of her. It was too much for him.

Jack hissed when her nails dug into his back but it did little to deter him from rightfully claiming her for himself. He kept pushing in despite her cries and moans. Jack’s instincts began to take over as he began to thrust.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and moans echoed in the room. The smell of sex permeated in the air. Jack had never felt such pleasure before.

It didn’t take long for his shallow thrusts to become brutal. The bed slammed into the wall and his hands grasped her hips in a bruising grip but it did little to deter his desire to own her.

Poor (your name) could only throw her head back as she felt him dig into her guts. His large tip punching her crevice over and over again. He was too big… he was too much. Yet she couldn’t even formulate words from how stupid he was fucking her.

Jack felt a strength rush through his body but he paid it no mind. He was too busy chasing his high to understand Hanma logic. The desire to claim and breed had overtaken him.

Jack gave her shoulder’s a bite strong enough to leave a mark. His tongue lapped at the blood in euphoria. He felt on top of the world. He loved this feeling and he never wanted it to end… he finally had his precious lamb.

It was when his hips began to finally stutter and he felt something explode from him that he knew it was finished. He pulled himself out with a wet squelch, his cinnamon eyes glanced at the steady stream of white leaking from her swollen hole in awe. She was his.

His hulking body slumped into a puddle beside her. His arms coiled around her form to pull her to his. Jack felt himself relax for the first time in years, his high made him glow.

“That was amazing…” Jack whispered, the giant pressed kisses on the bleeding bite make on (your name)‘s shoulder. “I’m all yours.”

(Your name) only felt exhausted, her body bruised and battered from his rough treatment but she was sure she could slip away in the morning.

As her eyes fluttered shut to sleep, she failed to realize Jack was never going to let her go.

He may now be hers, but now she was also his. Forever.

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haveyouseenthishorrormovie · 9 days

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[...] We as humans, do love our categories. After all we sit and watch a movie called say "It's Just One Look". That title doesn't tell us much about what we're about to watch. Maybe I'm interested in something arty and introspective, or something light-hearted and romantic. Maybe I want to be chilled or thrilled. Or maybe I just go in blind and open myself up to liking whatever as offered to me. Subgenre is significant for these reasons, but it's not really not very cut and dry. Silence of the Lambs has been widely claimed to be the first and only horror film to win Best Picture and according to the Wikipedia page about the Academy Awards best picture, only five other horror movies have ever been nominated. Those other movies were The Exorcist, Jaws, The Sixth Sense, Black Swan and Get Out. But there are other nominees for best picture I would say that are being left out of that horror list: A Clockwork Orange, Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf? Deliverance, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Taxi Driver, Fatal Attraction, Schindler's List, Fargo, No Country for Old Men, The Hurt Locker, Precious, A Serious Man, 127 Hours, 12 Years a Slave, Room, Parasite, Joker and Nightmare Alley. None of those movies fall directly into line with what we think of as horror, either because of soundtracks, lighting, special effects or camera movement. But they're all unnerving scary films, and they deal with the same tropes and archetypes the classic horror films deal with. And yet, I'm still not sure why Silence of the Lambs is a horror film. Is it because the extremeness of the violence depicted? I mean, if we want to draw lines here like Silence of the Lambs to me, more closely resembles a crime procedural. Like he could have just been CSI Ohio. And here I land on this week's film Freaks. Definitely part of the horror genre based on general cultural agreements. Like a Slasher B-movie, the shitty people are super shitty and they get what's coming to them in horrible ways. It's grotesque and moody, and like the best horror films, it's campion, subversive. But would I call it a horror film? Like strictly speaking, maybe not, but I think that judgment will differ from person to person. And I honestly love the stretchiness this of the horror label. Like almost everything's a horror movie. Even people who think they don't like horror actually love it because almost everything overlaps the horror genre. You seen a ton of horror movies in your life, even if you think you haven't seen a one.

- Jeffrey Cranor, Random Number Generator Horror Podcast No. 9, ep. 200 - Freaks (1932) (aired 20th Feb 2024) Lightly edited

#not a poll #in relation to recent discussions about horror genre and i thought about sharing this here a week ago when i heard it #mod sus

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lilacsnid · 3 months

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𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 | 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Y/N is leaving work from Slough House rather late one evening and passes River's office to find him still sitting at his desk. She persuades him to not be so uptight & to come have a drink with her at the pub. She learns a bit more about him that night - including the fact that River Cartwright is a massive lightweight.

𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙨: she/her pronouns used, some dialogue in this fic is from slow horses season one, mentions of sexualization/slut shaming, fluff, river being a precious baby. in a world of boys, river cartwright is a gentleman.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: this is a work of fiction; any names, characters from slow horses, places & incidents will either be a product of my imagination or used fictionally (5.8k words)

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

Y/N sighed heavily as she finally managed to shut her computer down for the day, feeling the strain in her shoulders. She rubbed her temples, squinting tiredly as she began gathering all of her belongings together. She had opted in staying back a couple of hours to complete some paperwork, wanting to ensure that Catherine wouldn't be burdened with it in the morning. She switched off the lamp on her desk before making her way out of the office she shared with Louisa.

On her way out of the building, a faint glow caught her attention, causing her to stop in her tracks. Intrigued, she followed the light down the hallway that led to River and Sid's shared office.

She had initially assumed that she was the last one in the building, yet she was proven wrong when she peeked through the glass window and spotted River sat at his desk, bathed in the soft glow of his computer screen.

He leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and a discernible frown etched on his face as he remained absorbed in whatever was on his computer. The black earphones that were placed in his ears suggested to her that he was engrossed in watching something.

His tousled blonde hair fell over his forehead, and in the faint lighting, his normally bright blue eyes appeared darker and wearier than usual. Y/N couldn't help but notice the fatigue evident in his slow blinks as his attention remained fixed on the glowing screen in front of him.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she moved towards the door. Leaning against the frame, she took a moment to watch him, wondering if he would notice her presence eventually. Unsurprisingly, he remained completely oblivious, engrossed in whatever he was watching.

Biting her lip, Y/N’s eyes quickly scanned around the room before grabbing a book from a nearby shelf. With another quick glance at him and a mischievous smile, she slammed the book down on the table near the door, creating a harsh noise that cut through the silence.

The abrupt sound drew River's attention like a magnet, his eyes snapping up from the computer screen. Despite the initial harshness, his gaze softened slightly once he spotted her in standing in the doorway.

“Fuck,” He sighed, reaching up to take his earphones out.

Y/N tried to suppress a giggle as she held her hands up in defence.

"Sorry," She apologised, taking in his slightly dishevelled state. "What are you still doing here?"

He met her gaze, taking in a deep breath in. "Just... sorting through some stuff."

“Such as?” She questioned, crossing her arms and giving him a skeptical look.

"None of your business," He shot back, a hint of sarcasm underlying in his voice.

She rolled her eyes at him before pushing herself off the door frame, sauntering over to where he sat at his desk. River rubbed his hands over his face, attempting to massage away the aches as he sensed her starting to make her way over to him.

“Seriously though, it’s 8:00pm,” She remarked, scrunching her eyebrows as she stood next to him. She leant back against his desk as she faced him. “I thought Lamb was the only one who practically lives here. Don’t you have a home to go to?”

He let out a small, sarcastic and dry laugh, leaning back in his chair to face her. “Says the one who is literally sitting on my desk. You should ask yourself the same thing.”

“God, you’re hard work,” She sighed, throwing her head back in annoyance.

“All right,” He sighed, shooting her a look that she couldn't quite place. “What’s your excuse for being here after hours, then?”

She crossed her arms as she spoke, “I finished up some extra paperwork from today so Catherine wouldn’t be swamped with it in the morning.”

“Wow,” River drawled out, fiddling with his earphones, “What do you want? A medal? Pat on the back?”

She groaned at his teasing. “You know what? I would settle for anything other than that contemptuous look you always have on your face.”

His face scrunched up as he squinted at her. “That’s a big word, Y/N. You sure you know what that means?”

She shook her head at him, sighing in defeat after attempting to lighten his mood.

“God, lighten up, Cartwright,” She quipped, reaching out to playfully tap her hand against his leg, “This whole 'I hate the world' attitude you’ve got going on is really starting to piss me off.”

“Well, any time you wanna leave, feel very free,” He joked, gesturing towards the door while still holding a straight face. “You know the way out.”

She shot him a pointed look, shaking her head as he raised his eyebrows at her.

“What? You planning on staying here all night?” He asked, challenging her.

“Nope, I give up,” She scoffed while standing up properly and began making her way towards the door. “I might go for a drink somewhere.”

River swivelled on his office chair, raising his eyebrows slightly as he nodded.

“Thanks for the invite,” He muttered, a hint of disappointed in his tone.

She rolled her eyes at him as she turned back on her heels to glance at him, “This is me inviting you, idiot.”

His eyes shot up at her words, making him tilt his head in surprise. He tried to act like he wasn’t flattered by the request and maintained a carefree expression in hopes she wouldn’t notice.

“You know what? I think I would rather sit here in the dark all night, thanks all the same,” He countered, pulling himself closer to the desk and picking up his earphones.

“River Cartwright, ladies and gentlemen,” Y/N mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. “Hard working MI5 agent but always the prude.”

He crossed his arms at her and raised his eyebrows, “A prude? I am not.”

“Oh, you’re not?” She questioned, walking back up to his desk and leaning over it from the front, maintaining eye contact with him. Her eyes took him in as she tapped her fingers on the desk. “Then prove it.”

He held eye contact with her as he inhaled deeply, trying to refrain from letting his gaze wander up her body.

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

The two of them left Slough House, making their way a few minutes down the road to her favourite pub. She crossed her arms over her chest as River walked alongside her with his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his corduroy jacket.

As she walked beside him, she glanced up at River as he managed to catch her eye.

"What?" He inquired, his face deadpan.

She shook her head as a small smile slowly creeped onto her lips. "Didn't think you would actually come."

"Yeah, well," He was quick to respond, "Maybe that’s because I'm not actually a prude."

She shrugged playfully, "Could have fooled me."

"You're unbelievable," He groaned, looking down at the cobblestone path beneath their feet as he shook his head.

“You love it when I’m hard on you,” A chuckle escaped her as she bumped her arm against his. She briskly rubbed her hands together, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that lingered the air around them.

After strolling for a few more minutes, they finally reached the pub, the welcoming glow drawing them in. River stepped in front of her, gracefully swinging the door open and gesturing for her to step inside before him.

"Thank you," She breathed out, revelling in the comforting warmth that enveloped her as they entered, the gentle sound of conversation buzzing around them.

River took in the ambiance of the place to where she had brought him and sidled up beside her as they approached the bar. She watched as he glanced over her shoulder and leaned down slightly so she could hear him over the chatter, “What would you like?"

She was caught off guard and opened her mouth in surprise. "Oh, you're buying me a drink?"

He nonchalantly nodded, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "Yeah. What, would you rather I didn't?"

She chuckled, "Hey, no complaints here. I'll have a beer, please."

River shot her a playful glance, eyebrows raised as he tapped his fingers on the marble counter. "Wow, you're cheap."

Feigning offense, she gasped and playfully slapped his arm while shooting him a pointed look. He scoffed, rubbing his bicep for a moment as he glanced around. "Want to find a table? I'll bring the drinks over."

"Alright," She nodded, gracefully moving away as her eyes scanned the pub.

She soon spotted a snug corner table nestled towards the back of the pub and made her way over there. Taking a seat, she placed her bag beside her on the floor. As she settled into the chair, she let out a content sigh, not being able to resist stealing a glance over at River, who still lingered at the bar.

A subtle smile played on her lips as she watched him. His tall figure leaned casually against the bar, and she couldn't deny the particular kind of allure about his presence. Unbeknownst to River, his attractive good looks were well-known among those in the service. Despite his inclination to act as if the world were perpetually against him, she couldn't help but acknowledge the undeniable charm he possessed.

She reached for the hair tie around her wrist, skilfully securing her hair into a casual half-up, half-down style just as River approached the table with their drinks. Glancing up at him, she found him holding a beer in one hand and a whiskey in the other.

"Of course, you’re a whiskey drinker, how original," Y/N teased, her eyes bright with amusement as he set the glasses down on the table.

River let out a sigh, "You’ve always got something to say, don't you? Give me a break."

She chuckled and thanked him as he placed down her drink. However, as he set it on the table, she couldn't help but notice his hand – red and showing signs of a recent burn. Her eyes widened, a tinge of concern in her voice as she looked up at him, "What happened to your hand?"

He closed his eyes momentarily, a slight groan escaping his lips. He had attempted to keep his injured hand discreetly tucked away in his pocket, but it seemed he was now unable to let it escape her notice.

"Nothing, just," He began, then stalled for a second as he settled into the chair across from her, scrambling for a quick excuse, "Burned it on a grill."

Her head tilted inquisitively, and she shot him a pointed look, "Yeah right. So, are you going to tell me what actually happened?"

He let out a heavy sigh, his long fingers wrapped around his glass, deliberately avoiding eye contact. He could feel her gaze burning through him, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

After a brief moment of silence, he noticed her extend her hand, a silent request for him to reveal his injured hand that he was still trying to hide. He met her expectant gaze with a sigh and a sense of defeat as he reluctantly extended his hand towards her. With a gentle motion, she cradled his hand in both of hers, taking notice of the subtle tremor that seemed to steady in her grasp. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself softly at the size difference between her delicate hands and his own.

As she studied his hand with a caution, he found himself completely captivated by her focused attention. Strands of her hair fell over her face, framing a look of concentration. His eyes remained fixed on her while she examined his hand.

"Did it hurt?" She asked, her tone careful.

He felt her fingers tracing patterns on the skin of his palm, causing him to lose his train of thought for a second.

"No. Well, yeah, a bit," He admitted, with a sheepish glance.

She nodded, letting go of his hand to reach for her drink. "Yeah, I guess opening a flash box without the code will do that."

A quizzical look crossed his face as he glanced at her. "I never told you that."

"You didn't have to," She responded, taking a sip of her beer.

River scoffed softly, shaking his head. It seemed as though she had him all figured out.

"Why would you even do that? You are many things, but I didn't think you were stupid," She teased, arching her eyebrows as he met her gaze again.

"It's nothing to worry about," He dismissed, waving her off as he took another sip of his whiskey.

Y/N observed him for a moment, her gaze following the amber liquid as it passed his lips.

"What was in the box?" She couldn't resist asking.

River sighed, briefly glancing behind her before answering, "A laptop. With files taken from Robert Hobden."

She nodded knowingly, "Do The Park know that you opened a flash box?"

"No," He briskly shook his head, "And they aren't going to find out, are they?"

She shook her head in response, a silent confirmation of her discretion. He appreciated the unspoken trust they seemed to share between them.

"Was it worth opening a flash box over?" She teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"Stop interrogating me, okay? Can we just not talk about it right now?" River redirected, tapping his glass with his pointer finger. "I thought you dragged me here to get away from work."

"I didn't drag you here," She chuckled. "And if you feel trapped here, you know the way out," a hint of jest in her voice as she playfully repeated his words from Slough House earlier.

He huffed at her, "Touché."

"I'll drop it," Y/N promised, lifting her glass again. "But you know I'll grill you about it later."

He nodded, letting out a scoff at the pun she managed to slip in. "Oh, I know you will."

They settled into a comfortable silence for a minute, during which River studied her again. Sensing his gaze, she looked across at him quizzically before asking, "What?"

Biting his lip, he contemplated the question that nagged at him in the back of his mind. Deciding to bite the bullet, he took a short breath in, leaning against the table on his elbows as he crossed his arms. "Why are you here, Y/N?"

She shot him a confused look, "Uhm-"

"Not at the pub," He corrected himself in a teasing manner, "At Slough House."

She sighed, "I thought Slough House was like prison. You're not supposed to ask what you're in for."

He sensed her attempt to sidestep the question, but it didn't seem to stop him. His curiosity got the better of him and he couldn’t deny the subtle soft spot he harboured for her, something in which he often struggled to hide.

"Well, you know why I'm there," River stated.

"Yeah, but everyone knows why you're there," Y/N countered with a smile.

She laughed as he rolled his eyes, "I was gonna give you a compliment, but you can shove it now," He said, looking unamused.

"Suit yourself," She smiled, finding amusement in how easily she could tease him, "I get enough flattery from everyone else."

"But that's what I mean," River said softly, "Everyone can see that you're different. Because you are."

She glanced up at him, a gentle smile gracing her lips before she looked down again, avoiding his intense gaze.

"I mean," He continued, breaking the intensity of his gaze, "Min, Struan, Roddy—maybe not Louisa, but definitely Moody. They were always headed for the skids. They're useless. But you're…"

She looked up at him again as his words trailed off, and they shared a momentary glance, one with an unspoken meaning as River continued to speak.

"You know," He breathed, shaking his head slightly, "It just doesn't make sense. But whatever the reason for being put in Slough House, it must have come out of nowhere, right?"

She chuckled softly, taking a swig of her drink, "Always the MI5 agent, hey?"

"Sorry," He apologized, backtracking, "I'm just letting my thoughts do the talking. You don't have to tell me. It's your business."

"No, it's okay," Y/N smiled, but he watched it quickly fade as her mind ticked over. "Yeah, it did come out of nowhere."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "I was put in Slough House because of a rumour about me, that wasn't even true, got spread around at The Park."

"What kind of rumour?" River asked, dumbfounded.

"Wow," She expressed surprise, "I'm surprised you haven't heard about it already."

He gestured for her to continue, giving her his full attention.

"Someone came onto me, rather forcefully, one day at the office. And because I turned him down, it hurt his feelings. He couldn't accept it, so the next day, he went around to all of his mates at the office, telling them that I was a slut and that I basically begged him for it. His mates then proceeded to tell everyone at Regents Park, which marked me down massively. No one would even look at me after that. And because everyone took his word as gospel, I was shipped out to Slough House," Y/N explained, her emotions surfacing as she spoke the truth she had tried to bottle up for so long.

River was shocked to his core. The revelation left him not only astonished but also infuriated at how someone could do that to someone as honest and kind-hearted as her.

"I’m so sorry," He consoled.

She shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to downplay the impact, but he could sense that it bothered her deeply. Understandably so.

"I heard you worked at The Park," He said, before pressing further, "Was it anyone I know?"

Y/N stayed silent for a moment before nodding, releasing a sigh, "It was Webb."

River raised his eyebrows before scrunching them together in a frown, "Spider?!"

"Yep," She replied curtly, downing the rest of her drink.

He scoffed in disbelief, finding yet another reason to dislike James Webb. "What a dickhead. How is it that he is able to get away with something like that? It's bullshit."

She nodded, "Yeah, it was shitty. But I got my revenge on him."

He shot her a pointed look, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not usually the petty type..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at the table.

"Oh, come on," River encouraged her, "What did you do?"

Biting her lip, she tried to hide her smile, "On my last day at The Park, I broke into his office while he was at a meeting and went through his computer. I wasn't even looking for anything in particular. But then I found some rather revealing pictures he had of himself. So, being as pissed off as I was at the time, I sent them as an email to everyone in the building. I did it in a way that no one could trace it back to me."

River couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter, hastily covering his mouth as he began to worry he was making too much noise.

"That is priceless," He chuckled, "Who is dumb enough to even have photos like that when working in the service? Let alone on your work computer."

"Clearly Spider," She grinned, propping her chin onto her palm.

River's laughter eventually subsided, but his smile remained, "So he never found out?"

She shook her head, "Nope. But I'm sure he won't forget it anytime soon."

"I saw him today while dropping something off at The Park," He said, thinking out loud, "I should have knocked his lights out."

"Can't change anything now," She said, "Just gotta keep moving forward."

He glanced at her, shooting her a sympathetic but genuine smile.

His chair scraped across the wooden floor as he stood up to go and get another drink, "You're one of the good ones, Y/N L/N," River smiled, tapping her shoulder as he walked past her and made his way over to the bar.

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

A couple of hours had drifted by since Y/N and River had first stepped into the pub. Conversation flowed between them quite effortlessly as they both enjoyed the opportunity to unwind outside the confines of Slough House. Y/N decided to grab another drink after her first initial one, opting to nurse the second glass River had kindly bought for her. She observed him from across the table as he indulged in several glasses of whiskey.

She furrowed her brows, finding it quite amusing to witness his demeanour shift from serious to carefree within the span of just a couple of hours.

"You gonna finish that?" River mumbled, eyeing her half-empty glass. Without waiting for her response, he quickly snatched her glass from the table and downed the remaining liquid in one gulp.

She watched him with wide eyes, shaking her head at his audacity. Leaning forward on her elbows, she tapped her finger against the silver watch on his wrist that caught the light, quickly managing to glance at the time herself. "It's late!"

"What? Tired, are you?" River asked, tilting his head at her.

"You should be," She retorted, "It's a school night."

He groaned at her words, screwing his eyes shut at the thought of having to get up for work tomorrow morning while nursing a potential hangover.

She leaned over the table, concern etched on her face. "I think you've had enough, River."

His head suddenly shot up at the use of his name. He narrowed his gaze towards her cheekily before also leaning over the table, mirroring her actions. His eyes very obviously trailed over every inch of her face as he studied her features.

"You never call me River," He whispered, his voice low, unaware of the subtle hitch in her breath caused by the close proximity of their faces.

She shook her head, her reply soft, "I never call anyone River."

"Yeah well," He cleared his throat, "You can thank my mother; it was her hippie phase."

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle as an unfamiliar feeling of warmth washed over her. It felt strange to her to witness River in such a drunken state, considering his usual serious demeanour that he held. She took in the blue of his eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his hair fell over his forehead—absorbing every detail possible.

He glanced around, taking notice of the nearly empty bar they still sat in before mumbling, "I reckon we should go."

"Good call," She agreed, standing up and pulling her coat back on.

As she grabbed her bag, she watched River skeptically as he slowly rose to his feet. He tapped his jacket a few times, feeling to make sure he still had his keys and his wallet.

The two quietly made their way out of the pub, the cool night air hitting them instantly as they stepped out onto the quiet streets of London. Y/N stood beside River, casting a sidelong glance at him, unable to shake the amusement present from her expression.

"So, reckon you’ll be fine to get home?" She teased him.

He glanced down at her from his tall height as he towered over her, nodding as he swayed on his feet slightly. "Yeah."

"Okay," She smiled up at him, "Thanks for tonight, I'll see you tom-"

But he was quick to cut her off, "Walk with me?"

"Huh?" She questioned him, pulling on her coat tighter around her frame as she craned her neck to look up at him.

River chuckled slightly as he casually shrugged his shoulders. "I wanna keep talking to you, so will you walk home with me?"

Y/N narrowed her gaze at him, reminding herself of the fact that he had managed to drink a whole lot more than her tonight. Without stopping to give it much thought, she found herself nodding and shot him a smile. "Alright, fine."

While they started walking together, side by side, down the street, River stumbled a bit, causing Y/N to reach out and grab his arm in order to steady him. "Easy there, Cartwright. Don't want you face-planting on the pavement."

"I've got it under control," River assured her, though the grin on his face betrayed a different story.

As they continued walking, she could feel him subtly starting to lean against her small frame slightly. His head was spinning, and to him it felt like he was floating due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed. She stole another glance at him, observing the longer strides he took compared to what he usually would. There was a peculiar bounce in his step, and the usual frown that often adorned his face was long gone which amused her with every passing minute.

"How is it that I'm smaller than you but can hold my alcohol better than you can?" Y/N teased him, leaning against him slightly as the wind crept past them.

"Shut up," He breathed, while shaking his head and licking his lips.

Before long, they arrived at a set of apartments. She stopped in her tracks, watching as River walked ahead of her, towards a flight of stairs. It was only a couple of seconds before he noticed she was no longer following him. He turned around slowly, gesturing towards her with a confused look on his face.

"You coming?" River asked, tucking his hands further into the pockets of his jacket.

She curled her lips into her teeth, contemplating for a moment before she gave in, starting to follow him up the stairs which led to his apartment. He had slowed his pace down on the steps in front of her as he waited for her to catch up with him.

Once he had felt her place her hands onto his back, he sensed the warmth through the material of his jacket. She carefully guided him up the stairs, her presence a reassuring anchor until he stopped in front of his apartment door. He reached for his keys and fumbled with them, struggling to keep his eyes focused.

Y/N eyed him warily, observing the effects the alcohol had on his coordination. "Hey," She stepped closer to him, and spoke softly, "Give me those."

He chuckled, giving up almost instantly and passed her his keys. They stood close together, their fingers brushing against each other as she grabbed the keys from his hand.

"Which one is it?" She asked, glancing up at him with expectant eyes.

River leaned his head against the brick wall in front of him, turning slightly to look down at his keys before pointing to the right one. "That one."

She chuckled at him, biting her lip in concentration as she unlocked his front door. She could feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of her head, yet she tried to ignore it. As the door creaked open, she held it open for him, maintaining a watchful eye as he stumbled through his entryway.

His studio apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow revealing the lived-in but tidy space he occupied.

"Alright, Cartwright," She teased, handing him back his keys. "Get some rest and maybe lay off the whiskey next time."

River chuckled, giving her a nod of agreement. "Thanks, Y/N. And thanks for walking with me."

Y/N smiled with a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Well, you did buy me a drink. Consider it payback."

He stared down at her intently as he came to stand in front of her. He drew in a few deep breaths, the sound filling the silence that enveloped his apartment. River narrowed his eyes gently at her as a sheepish grin tugged it way onto his lips.

“What are you looking at?” She asked him, feeling a warmth beginning to appear across her cheeks.

With a nonchalant shrug, he maintained his silence as he simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

Y/N knew she should take her leave, but there was something about him that made her want to stay. He didn’t seem to mind as he tripped over the mat, and he kicked his shoes off. He managed to shrug off his jacket as he made his way over to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Deciding to stay, she placed her bag beside the lounge as she let her eyes wander around curiously, absorbing the surprisingly cozy charm of his apartment. The warmth enveloped her, leaving her torn between the sensible impulse to leave and the pull she was feeling that made her want to stay a little while longer.

River emerged from the bathroom, keeping quiet as he sauntered his way to his bed. As he settled down onto the edge of the mattress, he couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh, a release of tension he seemed unaware of carrying. Y/N approached him slowly, as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat, her gaze fixed on him.

“You alright?” She asked him, taking notice of the slump of his shoulders and the frown on his face that had managed to return.

There was a brief silence that lingered before she pressed on, concern evident in her voice, “What’s up? Hmm?”

She swore she could hear him sniffle slightly and watched as River reached up to run his hands over his face. He soon lifted his head to meet her gaze, shaking his head, a look of weariness etched across his features.

“I just…” He sighed, deliberately trying to hold back, leaving an unspoken weight lingering in the air.

Y/N found herself witnessing a side of him she never would have anticipated – vulnerable, burdened by the weight of emotions he desperately tried to hide. . Without hesitation, she extended a comforting hand, placing it gently on his shoulder. "You can talk to me, you know?" She reassured, offering him with a supportive presence.

River sighed, his gaze remaining heavy and fixed on the floor. "I just want to be actually useful, Y/N. Do something, I mean – I could not be more bored if I tried, and I have actually tried. It feels like I’m drowning there in Slough House."

She listened attentively, allowing him the space to voice the thoughts he'd been holding back. It was clear to Y/N in that moment that opening up like this wasn't something he was accustomed to. He had a perpetual need to prove himself, a persistent desperation that echoed in his words. The weight of expectations seemed to be wearing him down, and the vulnerability he displayed was both unfamiliar and exhausting for someone who typically guarded his thoughts so closely.

“I just feel like a failure, and it’s all my fault,” River murmured, completely defeated, his frustration evident as he began to rub at his eyes with his knuckles.

A brief silence hung in the air before Y/N gently placed both of her hands on his shoulders. "River," She whispered into the quiet, watching as he glanced up at her from where he sat in front of her.

She offered a soft smile once their eyes met. "When was the last time you had a hug?"

He looked away for a moment, genuinely trying to recall the last time he embraced someone. What shocked him was the realization that he genuinely couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged.

“I don’t know,” He mumbled, shaking his head.

Y/N frowned, taking a tentative step closer, as if testing the waters. “Can I hug you?” She whispered.

River nodded, with the word "Please" escaping his lips, quiet and hushed.

Without any hesitation, Y/N stepped forward, closing the gap between them and positioning herself between his legs. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulled him into a comforting embrace. At first River was initially unsure, but gradually surrendered to the solace of the moment, reciprocating by enveloping her in his arms. His head found a resting place against her stomach, and a contented exhale escaped him as he felt her nails tracing patterns on his back through the fabric of his shirt.

Her perfume acted as a subtle anchor, which grounded him, preventing him from falling apart completely. They lingered in their embrace, the gentle swaying of their bodies providing a soothing rhythm.

“Hey,” She whispered, her hands tracing up the sides of his face, forcing him to look at her, “You’re not a failure, I promise.”

River, too tired and fatigued to muster any words, flashed her a lazy smile as his eyes started to grow heavy. Resting his chin against her stomach, he glanced up at her. The effort to stay awake was a struggle for him, and her thumbs, rubbing soothing circles into his cheeks, only added to the struggle he faced.

“I think I need to sleep,” He mumbled, burying his face against the fabric of her shirt again, savouring the warmth of the hug for a few more precious seconds.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and settled back against the mattress. Y/N observed him, grateful that he was home safely.

"You need anything before I leave?" Y/N offered, lingering near the end of the bed, her gaze briefly caught by the city lights beyond his window.

One of his eyes opened, heavy with drowsiness, as he glanced at her from where he laid. It didn’t take long before he spoke up.

“Stay for a bit?” He asked, his voice sounding small and muffled against the pillows.

Without hesitation, she nodded towards him, slipping off her shoes and coat. Her body dipped against the mattress as she crawled up to the top, leaning against the headboard of his bed. To her surprise, she felt River shift closer, lifting his head to glance at her for a moment.

“Is this okay?” He asked, a vulnerable note in his voice that made her heart surge.

She nodded, motioning for him to come closer. River slumped down beside her, allowing her to hold him. Grabbing a blanket from the end of his bed, she draped it over the top of them. With an arm wrapped gently around his shoulders, she began playing with his soft, blonde hair.

“That feels good,” He hummed in content, draping an arm across her torso. The sensation of being held felt overwhelming to him, but in all the right ways.

As River slowly drifted into a peaceful slumber, Y/N felt his body starting to become heavier against her. In the quiet of his room, the city lights outside casting a gentle glow across his apartment, she continued to hold him, providing the comfort he needed in that vulnerable moment.

©𝙇𝙄𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙎𝙉𝙄𝘿

5801 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨

#jack lowden #jack lowden x reader #river cartwright #river cartwright x reader #river x reader #slow horses fanfiction #river cartwright imagine #apple tv #slow horses #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden imagines

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hideousvoid · 1 year

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Can you do yandere Malleus headcanon?

Possessive Fae

Reader: gender neutral

warnings: isolating, stalking mentions, slight mention of violence and manipulating behavior.

You won the dragon's heart, the future king of the Fae's, it's amazing right? It's up to you to take it as sarcasm or not, he has many good qualities as bad ones. From now one you can't go anywhere without him or Sebek, Lilia or Silver.

At first you noticed how people started to avoid you, isolate like you weren't there. Your friends slowly disappearing and never talking to you again. What was happening? It was horrible, you didn't have anyone there for you leading to stay in your room most of the time to try feeling better. The only student that still talked to you was Malleus, rarely Sebek but only to mention his master and Lilia doing the same. One day, tired and sick of all the things that were happening you wrapped your arms around the dragon Fae crying on his shirt. You told him everything keeping him the closest to yourself, you needed love so much. He softly caressed your hair whispering gentle words to make you feel better, it was all his plan and you as a poor lamb was falling in his trap.

"Don't worry child of man, I will be here for you from now on, forever"

Everywhere you go or stay, you can feel a pair of eyes looking at you, never knowing who's those are. Could be Lilia, Sebek or even Silver, ready to tell Malleus everything. Sometimes the gaze is different, cold and harsh, as if that person is going to devour you any moment. Every little movement, breath or word is caught by him, you are his precious human and he needs to know about you. If you try to talk to him about it you are getting nothing else than the silence, looking at you unbothered. It's not like he is going to stop, as a spoiled kid he does whatever he wants and gets what he wishes. He could wake up tomorrow and choose to bite you to taste your blood, leaving a mark so everyone knows that you are his. What are you going to do about it? Nothing, because you can't and words doesn't work with him.

"you look so cute in your pajama, you know? I could just eat you up"

Then you are going to stay in his room, can't return to your old one anymore. All your stuff is there, your clothes in his wardrobe in a side just for you. You can only leave the room with the company of his familiars or him, then you'll immediately return to his room no matter what. You are only his and his alone, this is why he hugs you in his sleep tight as he is going to lose you any moment. Lilia deliveries the lunch and dinner that Sebek cooks, Malleus doesn't wish for you to eat the bat's almost poisoning cooking. Don't hope in those three, if you try to escape they will catch you and immediately warn the Fae. Neither talking with them will work, Malleus gave permission only to Lilia to chat with you. Obviously the conversation is about Malleus and you, he won't mention anything else. You do your homeworks with the dorm leader, you wash with him and you have a very little privacy.

"Did you seriously attempt to escape, (y/n)? I'm giving you all my love and attention, why are you doing such a cruel thing to me? You are hurting me so much.."

Naive as he is, he won't care much about the consequences of his punishment. In fact he will take you in his arms and shower you of his love, whispering how he did it for both and that you will feel better soon. You won't stop loving him, at least he thinks, you are too desperate and without him you can't survive. Malleus makes you find your room full of gifts everyday, name one thing you desire and you'll be immediately satisfied. Your body is full of bites mark made by him, his scent over you while you can only wear his clothes when you aren't at school. You won't leave him, neither death will, you are going to be with Malleus forever with no way to escape.

"your body, mind and soul are completely mine. Our souls are becoming one soon, you won't imagine of running away from me no more. Bear it with me, my jewel"

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poppy-metal · 4 months

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okay u made that post about mafia!jordan thinking you’ve been taken and now all i can think about is them if you actually are taken and by the time they find you they’re covered in blood and they grab you by the chin and don’t really care that they’re getting blood on you because you’re alive and they just look at you for a second until you can’t take the silence and cry out their name and they just. smash their mouth to yours in like a teeth clacking, open mouthed desperation like AHHHHHHH

just tossing their gun to the side, it clattering loud and heavy on the floor as they rush you taking your face in their bloody hands - blood they'd drained for you, in your name - and crushing their lips to yours so fiercely the chair you're strapped to rocks backwards. they sink to their knees between your spread legs so they can wrap their arms around you, and you can feel their shaking, it takes a minute for you to realize its from fear - fear and relief.

they touch you so softly the rest of the night. like you're made of glass. like you're the most precious thing to them and handling you to roughly might shatter your bones. they kiss you like they'd die without your air being breathed into their lungs. they gather you into their arms and hold you like you're a little lamb, kissing your forehead. hands shaky everytime they caress your face, trace your features.

"don't ever fucking do that to me again."

not that you'd gone and got kidnapped on purpose, but. they dont think they could live through that again. they might just kill everyone in the world next time.

#ask #mafia!jordan

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yurozo · 2 months

Text

the wolf and the lamb (leon x reader)

chapter two, a mouse trapped in bloodied claws:

synopsis: a seed of doubt begins to take bloom in your chest, watching ada slowly succumb to the infection. before you can react, you run into the agent that's meant to take away everything you've ever known. (ao3)

a/n: leon's finally here baby! let me know what y'all think

word count: 3.5k

Nothing seems truly alive here, in this crumbling village just past the borders of Spain. There is only the quiet, occasionally interrupted by the grumbling of villagers below you that fill the air’s emptiness. A flood of bustling footsteps marching in unison temporarily breaks the silence. The sound echoes throughout, a rattling thump, until it fades into nothingness. Weapons carved from homogeneity, born into a persistent numbness to their existence before. You almost envy the simplicity of their existence, repeating the same domestic rituals with dragging feet and half-garbled sentences.

Wesker told you to start at the village, wait until she makes herself known, and keep your eye on anyone who might try and interfere. The woman in red is trustworthy enough for him, but the whispering of another actor in his grand design is too loud to ignore, a man determined to bring down everything he holds dear. To take you away from him, his precious masterpiece, and turn you into a weaker thing. Thus, you were cast from your iron podium, nothing more than a spectator to his and the woman’s scheme unless the moment called for it.

For such a critical factor of his ineffable plan, it is painstakingly boring .

You whisper ramblings to the open air to no answer, a meek attempt to quell the rising boredom that slowly lulls you to sleep. A monologue to an absent god, if anyone even existed up there. Sitting at the bell tower’s highest level allows you to see everything happening, but it’s far away from the action. Occasionally, your eyes wander over to the bull mulling about in its pen, and you wonder how its blood would feel between your fingers.

You close your eyes, if only for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the daydream. Your mind supplies images of your hands digging inside your own chest, gripping the tendons and flesh holding the fragile organ together. Your fingers struggle to squeeze the organ in a futile attempt to keep it still.

The sound of a scream breaks your reverie, along with the livelier bustle of villagers as they file out of their desolate houses. You watch them drag a screaming man to the middle of the square, his blood mixing into the dirt.

A flash of blue. A uniform.

There’s this aching feeling in your chest, your heart hammering itself against your ribcage like angry fists on a concrete wall.

The man wails as the nails are hammered into his limbs, pinning his body to a crudely made cross. His screams fill the emptiness moments later as the fire licks upwards and consumes him entirely. You hear his final words– a desperate cry to the sky above. It’s enough of a show to entertain you, for the time being, until you can catch wind of your real target.

Who is pointedly still not here for some reason.

You hear a knife being unsheathed and the sick crunch of bone when you realize the show is only beginning. Crawling to the edge of the bell tower’s ledge, you watch a man gingerly place the body of one of the village women out of sight before swiping at an herb to shove it in his pocket. The other villagers spot him moments later, rushing toward him with relentless anger. That aching silence is once again shattered by the unrelenting sound of gunshots.

You watch the fight ensue, chin resting in your palm, momentarily sated by the entertainment of seeing the villagers fall one by one. The man is clearly experienced, obvious in the practiced elegance with which he handles his weapon, but still young– if the momentary stiffness in his shoulders every time a villager prepares to fight is anything to go by. The hoard seems never-ending, and as time ticks by, the man is clearly starting to reach the limits of his energy. This sophisticated dance of bullets and blood is nearing its conclusion, and you’ll be damned if you let those blubbering subordinates get a one-up.

If what Wesker said about this agent is true, it will be you who gets the glory of the kill.

Your foot shoots out and kicks the bell, the sound reverberating in your ears. The ringing is enough to signal to the horde that their momentary goal is completed, leading the stragglers to wander off towards the tower. They saunter off with glazed eyes, leaving the man standing in complete bewilderment. Before you can hop off the ledge, you hear him mutter something to himself, and you can only huff in passing amusement.

A second later, you see a streak of red shoot past you, disappearing among the houses before you can react. The game is beginning.

–

The woman in red, for the little that you trust her, is at least a more entertaining watch. She’s incredibly skilled, precise in each shot with a steadfastness that almost scares you. Every attack is perfectly timed, each movement without a wasted breath. There’s a reason why Wesker chose her– she’s efficient, deadly, and clearly knows better than to ask questions. Some unbidden part of you admires it, how easily she can follow orders without giving into any desire for more . She flourishes in this institution with a grace you could never achieve while still being able to retain an inherent virtue that you envy.

Despite your obedience, despite this binding attachment to Wesker, a part of you always wondered if there was more to this. More than the lab, than the cell, than this inescapable position at the heel of his foot. Perhaps if you were better, if you obeyed every command without a moment’s hesitation, maybe he would make you more than just a conveyer of his whim. Maybe you could be more like her, unattached and cool in the face of everything.

Someone like her is who he would always prefer. You knew that.

Your earpiece crackles as you hide yourself behind a chimney.

“Update.” Wesker’s voice rings through your ear, a touch of annoyance in his tone. He’s upset about something, and a part of you cowers at being the target of his ire. “We’ve lost Luis’ signal in the forest. I’ve sent Ada to track his last known location.”

“Understood.” You sigh, eyes flicking down to where Ada racing away on her grappling hook. “I’ll make sure to follow and keep you updated.

Wesker is uncharacteristically silent on the other end, only the faint sound of breathing audible over the earpiece. “Any sign of the man?”

Your heart stutters in your chest and slows to an eventual halt. He knows. A part of him must know, aware of this growing seed of doubt in your chest. “Caught him once in the village. He seems skilled.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Wesker snaps, the noise squealing in your ear. You wince.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You try to take a steadying breath as you step off the roof, your boots crunching in the dirt below. Despite every movement accomplished in Wesker’s name, it always ends with you begging in forgiveness– kneeling at his boot and pleading for another chance. “I don’t think he’ll be a threat."

–

Something instinctually doesn’t trust Luis. There’s this aching disdain towards his position as a researcher that unsettles you, something core in his existence that boils this pit in your gut. You wonder is he shares the same affection towards his construction as the man who created you, or if he’s acting out of regret for all that he’s created. You wonder if the answer would change anything.

Even if you’ve never met the man, you can’t help but wonder if his life is really all that worth saving. He made the Plagas, turned these humans into these weaker things that are doomed for extinction. Something stronger will only come around and put them out of their terrible misery.

Ada stumbles back to the village below you, clutching the side of her chest with a wince. A momentary instant of weakness there, this human part of her that seeps through her stone exterior. She stumbles forward, her head folded down.

There’s something wrong .

You hear the gunshot before you can see what she’s aiming at. There’s just enough time to hide behind a stone wall, knees folded into the harsh gravel. With a harsh breath, you peek your head out just enough to see into the square without exposing yourself fully. Ada is shooting into the open air, launching herself at nothing in particular. She must be seeing something you’re not, mind clouded by something you can’t put a name on.

It isn’t until you see the cloaked figure of a bioweapon behind her that everything clicks into place. This sick feeling of disappointment twists in your chest. You crumple behind the stone, pressing your earpiece once with a sigh.

“Update.” You whisper into the mic, voice quiet so as to not attract Ada’s attention. You’re not even sure if she can hear you over the gunshots, but you can’t risk Wesker’s anger.

His voice cuts in a moment later. “Speak.”

“Something isn’t right.” The gunshots falter, the click of an empty magazine clear through the village, and you hear her groan in pain. “She’s infected. Looks to be early stages.”

Wesker heaves a deep sigh, his voice clipping in annoyance. “Compromised?”

You peek over the wall once more, watching her inspect the handgun with great focus and mutter something to herself. “Most likely. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Fix it.” The earpiece crackles before finally falling silent.

The silence gnaws at this softer part of you, one hidden beneath tears of calloused skin. For someone trusted enough to be given such a significant responsibility in his project, for someone who navigates Wesker’s design without uncertainty, Ada is thrown away like nothing. Part of you wants to believe that this is a necessary evil, this ability to know which pieces in the game to sacrifice for the greater good.

If a greater good exists in this circumstance. The thought of more people like you wandering the same land you occupy, teeth bared at all the weaker things who are unfortunate enough to be in its proximity. You wonder what would happen to you in those circumstances, if Wesker would remove the dagger or simply let the skin grow around it.

Ada crumples to the ground, weeping silently in pain. Wesker would have been disappointed at such a blatant sign of weakness, would have held a gun to her head and ended the pain as swiftly as he could. That’s what he valued most: strength. The strength to survive every circumstance and the strength to take out the faulty pawns when they could no longer move across the board. The sight of Ada slowly succumbing to the infection and clutching at the gashes in her arms would have been enough reason to toss her away with the rest of them.

You remember the tubes of littered corpses in the lab, forever stuck in this stasis of not-quite-really-living. It would have been a waste of her, you think, of her physical prowess reduced to this barely living corpse. You silently rise to your feet and walk into the closest building, careful to stay out of her sight. It would have been easy to tear her apart when she’s distracted and injured; soft flesh is nothing to sharpen and aged claws. Her back is facing you– half the work is done already.

Something stops you, something much stronger than your desperate need to obey.

There was no satisfaction in killing someone half-dead already, and that terribly soft part of you rises to the surface.

You suppose the infection would take her one way or the other.

–

The Ganados are an easy enough target for distraction. Slashing through bone feels easy– natural, even. This animalistic instinct to end this sad existence they’ve carved out for themselves overtakes you, and it’s not long until their blood is pooling around your feet. It’s the better alternative to thinking about your momentary weakness, that hesitation to follow orders from the only person who ever cared about you. Disobeying Wesker is not an action that comes without consequences. It is a darkness veiled over you that festers guilt like a mold.

He gave you strength, and this is the payment you give in return. He built you from nothing, meticulously stitched parts of you back together until you became something more than some sniveling weak child. He tore every soft part of you and replaced it with metal and bone and helped you when the pain pulled at each fiber of your being.

And yet, you hesitated. All because you wondered if he would love you still with the soft parts intact. If he would throw you away if something stronger took your place.

You hear the door swing open as you rip into the last Ganado’s chest, hands dripping with its ichor. There’s barely time to react before you hear a loud shot and feel a bullet tearing its way into your shoulder. The pain is only momentary, a slight distraction from the intruder who had the nerve to shoot you.

You turn your head– a small, barely noticeable movement. Your features begin to catch in the light as you step forward, firm muscles and vein-riddled skin splattered with blood. A flash of blue fills your vision before it trains on the pistol aimed directly between your eyes, white knuckles hovering over the trigger. You see his eyes fall to your hands, at the still-pulsating heart clutched desperately within bloodied, sharp claws.

“The hell are you?” The man snaps, taking a step back. His eyes flit up to your shoulder, where the flesh is rapidly stitching itself back together. It’s clear that your appearance takes him aback: the matted hair, sharp eyes, and veins bulging out of scarred skin. Every part of it is unnatural, like something fighting to break its way out. A woman poised and bred to kill.

His eyes eventually wander back down to your hands, to the blood dripping down unceremoniously onto the floor. Your head tilts slightly, but his expression doesn’t change, still stern and serious.

You recognize what he’s doing: sizing you up, seeing where he lies on this hierarchy of predator and prey.

You smell his fear and know his answer.

Prey.

That delicious scent of fear reminds you of someone, although you can’t quite place who. It doesn’t really matter; you can only focus on the way it permeates every sense and sharpens that instinct to devour. There’s something different about him– this thrill to destroy seems amplified a thousand times over. It’s been so long since you tasted it: bioweapons aren’t truly controlled by survival instincts, simply throwing themselves at their goal with reckless abandon to their own life. This is different, this is someone in a shitty situation with everything to lose. Its taste is magnified by some other feeling you can’t name, but it’s fucking delicious.

You can only smile at the man’s realization, this sharp and crooked action that feels entirely unnatural. He takes another step back. You step forward in response.

His eyes are flickering across your face, searching for something. Perhaps some kind of sign, a hint of humanity or empathy behind those pitch-black eyes. He finds only a forest fire of rage, restrained only by your obedience and lightened by curiosity.

“Leave.” Your voice cuts through the dense air between you, fully turning towards him. A part of you hopes that he will pay heed and run for it. There was always something about the chase, the unpredictability of someone skilled enough to keep it difficult, that always had your heart pounding in your chest. This could be the recompense for your unforgivable sin, bringing back the head of the agent that threatened Wesker’s mission. It was easier to kill someone willing to fight back and sharp enough to bite than one scrambling and pleading for a chance to live.

“Like hell I will.” The man scoffs, straightening his back. A meager attempt at confidence, you think, like a stray cat backed into a corner with its fur straight.

You grin. “Final warning.”

His body visibly tenses, adrenaline pumping through his veins. You can almost admire his steadfastness, the way he doesn’t cower in front of you but only tightens his finger on the trigger. He’s strong despite his age. Despite his soft flesh and beating heart that could be easily torn to shreds.

“I’m not leaving until I know what-” He pauses, a slight tremble in his hands. “ -who you really are.”

His statement confuses you, if only for a second. There’s a flicker of curiosity blooming in your chest at the man who still refuses to shoot her again. Being fearful of a beast coiling around your chest is one thing; asking for its name is another. Most of your targets never hesitate in their responses, either attacking in a scant attempt at continuance or folding when they realize they’re outmatched. This man does neither. He stands his ground and stalls. His decision lies in this void of ambiguity– questions the dog baring its teeth.

He doesn’t seem happy with your lack of an answer. “Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” You finally answer, tilting your head playfully at him like a cat toying with a half-dead mouse.

“It matters to me.” He breathes out, his lips pursed in thought. “A fucking sentient bioweapon. Just my shitty luck.”

If only he knew. If he could understand this weight thrust upon you as a beast of burden, doomed to live in an eternal position of obedience. Where softness is weakness, to be tender-hearted in your world is to resign yourself to death without a chance of fighting back. It means your final words will forever be an echoing and dying bark.

“Something like that.” Is all you can answer.

“Great.” He chokes out a nervous laugh, gritting his teeth in frustration. His fingers tighten on the pistol. “Another one of you, let out of the lab for God knows what reason.”

Your chest stings at the comment and hardens your expression. “Sounds like you have experience.”

“I’ve seen my fair share.” There’s a faraway look, if only for a moment, as if he’s reminiscing on something far lost to him. You had that look once, too, many ages ago, when there was something other in your chest than wrath and sinew. “You don’t look like any I’ve seen.”

You watch the slight tremor in his hands, a giveaway to the fear hidden beneath that stony facade. There’s no doubt in his experience, you’ve witnessed the adept way he handled the ones in the village. A second nature almost, not too dissimilar to yours.

“There’s no one else like me.” Your lips curl into a sharp grin, all devilish sharp teeth. For now , at least.

“That I don’t doubt.” He pauses for a moment, lowering the gun a fraction. “You going to make me kill you?”

“You shot first. I believe it’s my move.” You take a slow step towards him, a fluid and practiced motion of intimidation. “Shall I give you a headstart?”

“Whatever the hell you’re planning, I want no part of it.” He takes another shaky step backward, pressing himself against the front door. “I’m here for the girl, and that’s it.”

A beat. You freeze, brows furrowed in confusion. “Girl?”

Your hesitance clearly doesn’t convince him; his eyes narrowed, and his mouth turned into a frown. “Don’t bullshit me. The president’s daughter. Tell me where the hell she is, or I’ll shoot you again.”

You decide against telling him that it would be futile and would only succeed in momentarily slowing you down. Wesker claimed he was there to throw a cog into his grand design, to take you away and tear you apart like they do the others, not save some girl . Maybe Wesker had plans for her. The very thought of it makes you sick, thinking of him replicating you onto some lesser thing.

“You’re not here for me?” You take a step back, your voice faltering slightly. Wesker couldn’t be wrong. He wouldn’t lie to you. This agent is here to rip you away from your life and dismantle this precarious control you’ve carved out for yourself.

He scoffs. “I don’t even know who the hell you are.”

He should. There was only one of you. You were Wesker’s grand design, not something to be copied onto those who couldn’t handle the weight of this burden. You couldn’t be lumped into a circle with these lesser beings that only existed as a testing ground. No one else would understand this terrible strength you were given– they were the losing dogs in this ring of power, and you and Wesker were the winning dogs.

Before you can answer him, you throw a flash grenade onto the ground and disappear from sight.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 #re4r #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfiction #albert wesker #ada wong #bioweapon reader babey!!!#yuro's writings

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princelylove · 4 months

Text

Homemade CDs.

Synopsis: Leone loves youuu so muuuucchhh. A wip that I desperately want to get rid of, intended as a tiny drabble to build some character for Leone.

Warnings: general yandere content, stalking

There’s too many CDs under the television in Leone’s living room.

It’s Guido’s living room too, but Guido doesn’t really collect CDs. He has a couple- The Carpenters, The Cranberries, maybe even a Lesley Gore CD he swears up and down he got from a girl that just happened to leave it. (And hasn’t called him in three years to get it back.)

But other than that, it’s all Leone’s. There’s what you’d expect- Monteverdi, Tchaikovsky, maybe some Depeche Mode, and Bauhaus. Why does one man need three different versions of Swan Lake? The fucking nutcracker is in here?? They make CDs for that???

Some have had their insides replaced with black paper. If you ask him about it, he’ll tell you he burned the CD himself, and that’s why the side is blank. You just stick a piece of paper in where the art normally goes.

He never really wants to play it. If you ask him to, or God forbid take the liberty of opening it and putting it into the player yourself, he’s quick to take it from you and put it somewhere high up until you leave. Even if you’re tall, are you ‘top of the kitchen cabinets’ tall? Go ahead, try. Without looking stupid and leaning on his countertop. Yeah, that’s what he thought.

There’s also a ridiculous amount of films. Pretty Woman and The Bridges of Madison County sit nicely next to Leone’s hoard. Sling Blade, a recording of a ballet company’s Swan Lake, The Silence of the Lambs, the tv special version of The Phantom of The Opera (as well as the black and white one), are all pressed tightly together to fit in the shelves.

It’s hard to imagine Leone genuinely enjoying all of this, especially considering you’ve never really seen him smile in the first place. You imagine he just exhales instead of properly laughing at the ‘funny’ parts.

His humor is a bit morbid, from your point of view. He probably laughs at the serious parts- sends himself into a laughing fit at the phantom going underwater with a stick to breathe. Or maybe he’s an elitist, and doesn’t watch films to amuse himself.

‘I watch them for the experience.’ You imagine him saying.

He’s lucky you haven’t caught him watching you.

You’re so precious like this. It’s the closest thing Leone’s had to domesticity with you. Going through his things while he fixes his makeup in the bathroom, where he can still monitor you but pretend he doesn’t care what you’re doing… He’ll replay this later to see which films caught your eye, so he can rewatch them, or put them on the next time you come over. Ohh, heey, silence of the lambs just happened to be on, you’re welcome to sit and watch while he leaves to go do anything other than sit next to you- despite suggesting that you amuse yourself with his things. It’s kind of rude to go through someone’s things, especially when they’re organized like this, but you’re not about to tell Leone a hard ‘no.’

You may have thought he was being sarcastic, ‘Yeah, come over to my house and dig through my shit, perfect.’ but he meant it. Getting to watch you browse in the confines of his apartment is the most fun he’s had in a while.

When Guido gets home and breaks the precious silence Leone was thrilled about, he’s quick to comment on you digging through their collection.

“Hey, what’s- dude??? Your little guest can dig through our shit but I can’t leave a movie I’m CURRENTLY WATCHING out on the table? That’s SO unfair.”

“You won’t put it back where you found it.”

… You take that as a sign that you need to clean up, and put everything back the way you vaguely remember. You’re successful- a few are out of order, but it’s mainly neat. You’re not really interested in hearing Leone bitch about how ‘perfect’ he had it.

What you don’t know, and Leone will never tell you, is that he will never change the order you put it back in. That’s how they will stay, forever. A subtle piece of you in his home… he could just melt, but he won’t. Not until he has the absolute privacy of his room, where he can shove his face into his pillow, and then spend the evening hand washing his makeup off of it.

Leone still hasn’t come out of the bathroom. He’s not about to shut the love of his life out- not when that handsy bastard is home and eager to touch what isn’t his, but he’s also not ready to be so bold and actually be near you. Leone has dibs, Guido should respect that, nevermind the fact that Leone has never verbally or physically expressed his attraction to you.

He’s probably the luckiest man alive to live somewhere convenient to you. His apartment is on your way to where Bucciarati tells you to meet him for jobs- it’s easier to crash at Leone’s when the weather isn’t very well intentioned. You normally leave once Bruno calls you, but it’s been an hour since the agreed meeting time. Normally Leone would be worried, but… making sure you’re fine is more of a priority to him, at the moment. He cares about Bruno- obviously, of course he does, he’s beyond grateful… but one of you is his obsession and the other makes him feel a great deal of guilt. Well. You both make him feel guilty, but one is an “I am indebted to you eternally” and the other is “If you ever find out I lick your calves when I replay you I am fucked” kind of guilt. Very different.

He snaps out of the thought when he notices you’re not where he left you. Leone’s not about to panic- if you’re still here, it makes him look like an overbearing host who needs to see you constantly and oh god what if you don’t like clingy guys. What if you dislike him and are secretly waiting around for Guido? Is that why you’re fine with the silence? Is that why you’re so content with him not really talking to you during your visits and just letting you sit around?

Leone finds his way into his kitchen, and scoffs at the display. You were being entertained by Guido. You’re playing his current favorite game: see how high he can pick you up before Leone kills the mood. Looks like today’s game isn’t going to be a record holder.

“Can you not do that in front of the food?”

“Whaaat? We’re just playing. Don’t be so bitter.”

“I’d rather your ‘playing’ not break the only real glass we have left.”

“Jeez. What’s up your ass today.” Guido puts you down, and moves on to pour himself a drink from the refrigerator.

Leone’s eyes flick towards your face, to check your expression. Any ounce of reassurance will hold him over for weeks. Look at me. Approve of me. Love me.

When you avoid his gaze, he glances at the clock on the wall, and leaves to go back to what he was doing.

To Leone, pretending not to look his way is just as good as fully paying attention to him.

He has a routine whenever he replays you. Firstly, he needs to make sure Guido isn’t going to be back for a while, so he sends him on some tedious errand he puts off with the intention of passing it off to poor, unknowing Guido. Secondly, he has to check what you were doing before you arrived, just in case. If you looked in any stores, if you tried to look in his window, what expression you were making just before you rang the doorbell. If you looked tense, he always tries to find out why.

That gorgeous face of yours seems content today, so he speeds the replay up…

When he opened the door for you the other day, you looked at him for a second longer than normal. A whole, unobstructed second. What did he ever do to deserve such a look?

He hates the way you look at anyone else. Nothing infuriates him more than his darling giving their precious attention to someone who entirely doesn’t deserve it. Not that he thinks he does, but… it’s better than anyone else having it.

It doesn’t matter, since this look was for him, not Guido, not Bruno, and nobody else. It doesn’t matter if it’s disdain, complete neutrality, or even pity. That gorgeous expression you’re making is intended for him, and he missed it, because he was pretending to not care about you being here.

He’ll get you one day. Maybe not today, or soon, but one day. One day, he’ll get to play husband for you, and won’t even have to think about his stand, but for now… this’ll hold him over.

One day, he’ll get to sit at your feet and give you the attention you deserve, but he’s trapped himself in this stupid “I hate you get away from me” act he’s putting up. A man can dream.

#yandere leone abbacchio #yandere leone abbacchio x reader #GET THIS AWAY FROM MEEEEE.#its been in my wips for too long just take it. begone.

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strandnreyes · 1 year

Note

Red camellia or amaryllis?

Amaryllis - how far I'd go to prove I love you

Lou Two may be nearly twice the size as his predecessor which isn’t exactly fine, but Carlos at least thought the trade off would be that he’s twice as easy to spot. But Carlos is older and wiser now than he was when he got the reptile and even in his sleep deprived state, he understands what a gravely false assumption that was.

It’s been a full day and their new pet is still on the lamb. They’ve searched everywhere and Carlos thinks he brought home a con artist instead of a lizard because the bowls of celery and carrot greens they’ve placed around the loft—Carlos refused to let bowls of live crickets sit around their home—have suspiciously gone down when they’re not around to catch him.

As Carlos lays in bed, only slightly jealous of TK sound asleep beside him, he mentally designs some kind of harmless trap for the next time Lou gets hungry because as much as he was joking when he said he’d never sleep again, he’s starting to worry that might be true.

Except TK isn’t as asleep as Carlos thought. He turns around, resting on his right side to face Carlos, but Carlos remains staring at the ceiling.

“Is he going to the Greenbelt when we find him?” TK quietly breaks the silence, not even having to question why Carlos is awake.

“He’s domesticated. He wouldn’t last a week out there.”

TK huffs a quiet laugh. “He’s not a labradoodle,” he points out, but his questioning continues. “Then the pet store. Or wherever it is you got him from.”

“They don’t take refunds.” Carlos didn’t have to ask, the store clerk just told him. Probably something to do with Carlos’ wariness the entire time he was there.

“I’m sure Mateo would take him, then,” TK suggests weekly, seemingly convinced that the repeat offense of a lost lizard in the loft means Lou Two will get the same fate. Yet he’s still determined to give him a good home and Carlos’ heart grows impossibly fonder of the man he’s so close to marrying.

Carlos rolls his head on the pillow, getting a look at TK’s wide, concerned eyes that are so full of love and care for everyone. Even those with scales. “We’re not getting rid of him,” he promises gently, placating TK’s fears.

TK relaxes for all of one second before his worry gets transferred onto the next problem. “Maybe he’s already gone. He could’ve run out when we opened the door, or… or—”

“Babe, we'll find him,” Carlos soothes.

TK’s responding nod isn't immediate, but it comes eventually and Carlos vows to spend his entire day off tomorrow looking for him if that’s what it takes.

“Thank you,” TK says softly, shifting closer. Carlos winds his arm around TK’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. “I know you don’t like him that much, but… thank you.”

“I don’t know, he’s kind of—” Carlos pauses, face contorting as he forces out, “cute.”

TK’s laugh gets buried in the cotton of Carlos’ shirt. “Baby, you need to be more convincing than that if you’re going to bond with him.”

He wishes he could say TK is joking about the whole ‘bonding with their pet lizard’ thing, but Carlos is entirely certain he’s not.

Carlos thinks of the creature's small legs and the way he immediately crawled up TK’s shoulder. The thought of it doing the same to him sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine, but then he thinks of TK’s smile as he opened the box, the look he gave Carlos when he realized what was happening and how he cradled Lou gently like he’s something precious.

TK’s been through so much that sometimes it's a miracle he’s still standing, let alone finding joy in even the simplest of things, and Carlos would do anything to keep that smile on his face. Scaly reptiles in their home included.

“He’s not so bad,” Carlos whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to TK’s forehead before letting his eyes slip shut.

#tarlos #911 lone star #flower drabbles

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serenescribe · 8 months

Note

if the 3 sentence prompt is still open, maybe something with rook interacting w diasomnia somehow? i think about lilias pe card with their interactions a Normal Amount

[✐] ficlet frenzy

“Ah, if it isn’t Monsieur Endormi!”

Rook smiles at the way Silver startles as he approaches him, whirling around to stare at him with bulging eyes. One could almost describe them as bug-like, blown open wide in shocked surprise. “Pardon the intrusion,” he continues, “but I could not help but notice you wandering about the school as though you were a lost lamb.”

“Rook,” Silver greets. There is something Rook recognises well as an edge of unease in his voice, having heard it in plenty of the people he has approached before. Silver shifts, crossing his arms, those exquisite, alluring eyes, hued the colours of the auroras, flicking up and down. “Were you following me the whole time?”

To that, Rook only grins, feeling the corners of his eyes crease as he smiles. Sometimes it is better to let the silence speak for itself, non?

“That deep focus in your eyes,” Rook muses, attention honing in on Silver’s face. “Might I be correct in saying that you are searching for something? Or perhaps even someone?”

Silver’s eyes widen once again, pink lips parting ever the slightest bit. “You… How did you know?” At least, those are the words that spill from his mouth; Rook knows, based on the way Silver’s pupils shift to the side, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck uneasily, that what he is really thinking is: Am I that easy to read?

Perhaps not for everyone else, but nothing is impossible for him.

“C��est tres simple!” Wagging a finger in the air, Rook smirks. “You were sporting a look any hunter would recognise: a sharp and searching gaze for one’s quarry.” It is, after all, a look he recognises well; Rook has seen it reflected in his own face, in mirrored images or photographs taken of him. “And what a coincidence!” Rook continues, sweeping on, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically, another held out, palm facing upwards. “I happen to be unable to find our dear little crabapple in the dormitory today, so I’m out for a bit of a hunt myself. Mind if I join you?”

“Well…”

“Might I gander a guess that you are searching for one Monsieur Crocodile?” At the sound of the nickname, Silver snaps to attention, gaze sharpening and fixating upon Rook’s face. Perfect. “A most peculiar prey to be tracking,” Rook sweeps on, “given that his powerful voice usually gives him away.”

“I am searching for Sebek,” Silver concedes, confessing the information. He peers at Rook; “It isn't like him to disappear like this, and he isn’t answering his phone either. Your hunting skills are renowned across campus—”

“Merci!”

“—so would you happen to have an idea where he might be?”

Oh, Rook knows. He knows where the two of them are — Epel and Sebek both, trying their best to be subtle but failing to hide their trysts from the skilled eye of a marksman. Rook likes to compare them to precious little buds, flowers that have only begun to unfurl into bright blooms; they lack the experience of navigating life and love, only beginning to dabble into the tumultuous journey that is l’amour in their first year of school.

They are hiding out at the Ramshackle dormitory, of course. Where else would they be? Rook has known for a while, having tailed Epel there after the boy blurted out the truth upon receiving a thorough interrogation from Rook for breaking curfew multiple times. Similarly, he caught on rather quickly to the fact that Epel’s amour was none other than Sebek Zigvolt through the process of elimination — there were only so many companions their little crabapple had, after all.

But where would be the fun in revealing all this information so easily?

#my writing tag #tumblr drabbles tag #ficlet frenzy #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfiction #twst writing #twst silver #rook hunt #this fucking request has been haunting me for a MONTH #I HAD TO REWRITE IT FIVE OR SIX TIMES and it only worked when i switched to rook's pov #thank you to sheep for helping me with his dialogue and mica for helping with the french #collapses and wails #hi i'm gonna slowly catch up on my backlog amidst the new chapter stuff so you guys might get a slew of other writing

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abyss-presence · 17 days

Text

Note: headcanoned to hell; Yellow cat is called Nael and uses he/they; 3rd person pov; swears included; I forget the previous paragraphs mid writing so maybe inconsistent story

@aniflowers

Gracious Fall

Nael has not left Leshy alone even for a second after their little fight. Of course, after the Leader returned from their crusade, the spider disciple that intervened the last time told on them almost right away. Fucking snitch.

Surprisingly enough, Lamb somehow figured out that it was Leshy who started the fight, so he was the one who had to go through the horrifically embarrassing process of getting intimidated by the Leader. Not only was it embarrassing, it also genuinely scared Leshy. Not because Lamb was scary to them, hell no, but because...

Because they wore the red crown. And the crown belonged to...

...

Nevermind, let's not uncover this can of worms. For now.

Anyway, today was one of the days when Leader just came back home from a three day long crusade, with precious resources and a new addition to the cult.

It was a peaceful day, and nothing could ruin the comfortable silence with the occasional buzz around the flock, be it the distant chatter of the other cultists, or the sounds of them working–

Oh, huh? Leshy could pick up a subtle sound of footsteps getting closer and closer. Sounds like someone was running in the direction of the cult grounds.

"Leader, Leader! Glorious Leader, please help!" Nael's voice rang through the air, a clear tone of worry and concern in it. People immediately gathered around the entrance, looking at Nael with a mix of emotions: confusion, curiosity, worry, or maybe all at once.

The Lamb quickly approached the group that formed around the yellow cat, Leshy following suit to find out what the ruckus was about.

Nael had just returned from his mission, looking exhausted and panicked. He reached out towards the Leader, placing his paws on their shoulders.

"Glorious Leader! I found a follower awaiting for indoctrination like you requested, but they're sick! They will die soon if we don't help them!" The Lamb only nodded in response, immediately rushing over to the indoctrination stone to aid those in need. As the soon-to-be follower appeared in front of them, they realized why Nael was especially worried about this one: it's a tiny kitten who looks badly injured and on the brink of death.

Leshy could sense a new distinct scent of this orange kitten. How? That is a mystery that will remain uncovered for a while longer.

He could hear all the chaos ensuing around this sick baby, and for the first time in, what felt like, forever he felt like he missed being able to see. He felt the same a couple of times before, especially strongly when he just lost... no, when his eyes were just taken away from him. But to have that feeling reappear again now of all times was... strange. Strange and unpleasant.

The orange kitten was laid to bed, and the Lamb then asked both Leshy and Nael to pick the Camellia flowers they've been growing for the sick. Normally Leshy would feel apprehensive about anything the Lamb asks of him and would complain all the time, but now he felt compelled to follow through with the Leader's orders and do as he's told.

He and Nael both went ahead to pick up the needed flowers, with Nael directing Leshy throughout the process. After the entire farm was cleared out, Leader left them both to take care of the kitten, and their disciples to look after the cult while they went to gather more flowers and seeds from Darkwood. That will probably take another two to three days... and now Leshy's left alone with this stupid cat again. Great.

They sit together in the medical bay, Nael's paw firmly yet gently placed on the other cat's side as he sleeps. Leshy is sitting at the edge of the bed, messing with his hands to drown out his thoughts. That's when in their silence he catches a faint smell of blood.

"You're injured..." he comments, turning his head in the general direction of the yellow cat.

"Yeah, I am. But taking care of him was more important,'' Nael felt no shame in admitting that he didn't come home from his mission unscathed, since, in his mind, that just further proved his loyalty to the Glorious Lamb.

Leshy hesitated for a moment, deciding on his next action very carefully.

When he was still a God, he had his own followers, his own cult. But experiencing this type of devotion first hand, or rather, witnessing such devotion with your own very eyes was... somewhat disturbing. But also very moving.

With a frustrated sigh, Leshy gets up and pushes Nael down.

"Hey, what are you–?!" Leshy hissed at Nael, using this gesture to keep him silent in order to not disrupt the child recovering from his sickness. He picked up whatever medical supplies were left, including a bandage or two, and sat back down onto the bed, disinfecting and patching up Nael's wound in silence. "Oh... thanks... I guess." Nael chuckled awkwardly, watching Leshy's every movement out of caution. Leshy has been around the cult for some time, yet Nael still knew so little about him. He tried asking other cultists, asking Leshy's siblings and asking the Leader themselves, but none could give him a cohesive answer. So he was determined to find out more. Nael relaxed his tense muscles, letting Leshy do his thing and heal him, before he gathered the courage to ask: "Hey, Leshy? Why did you attack me back then? I'm not looking for confrontation, I just want to know the reason."

For some reason, when Nael was using this diplomatic tone, his brows furrowed subconsciously, Leshy had to pause for a good minute to collect himself again. He didn't really understand what was that about, but...

"It's... it wasn't your fault, you know? I just... I get irritated when people stare at me this much," he sighed and put back all the supplies after he was done with Nael's wound. "I thought it wouldn't affect me, I was a God for fuck's sake! People used to admire me, pray to me, sacrifice lives for me, but now... now that I'm a mortal it just– it feels so fucking disgusting when they stare at me. And I can't even see it, but I can feel it, which is even worse." Leshy turned to face Nael after his little rant was over, awaiting his reaction.

The only sounds that filled the air at that moment was the orange kitten's soft but shallow breaths, the buzz of the cultists outside the medical bay, and the ruffling of various fabric inside of it, before Nael finally spoke:

"You were a what–?!"

#cotl #cult of the lamb #leshycatpril #leshycatpril2024 #week 2 #prompt: sickness #idek if this fits the prompt...#not requested #dividers by cafekitsune

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skyyletai · 21 days

Text

I had scenarios in my head where the reader is the investigator and Chrollo is the prisoner. Just like in Silence of the Lambs, the FBI needs the help of an experienced criminal like Lucilfer. And that is why the reader is forced to answer his psychological questions for precious information. And it was then that for the first time in a long time he experienced echoes of compassion for a stranger...

"...and then I found a suitcase. Simple in appearance, ordinary, slightly shabby...but I was afraid to approach it. Not because it could be some kind of explosive or something else...no. For some reason I immediately felt sick when I saw it..."

"Why is that?" asked Chrollo, carefully studying every emotion on your face. He never took his eyes off you during the whole conversation.

"The tree... the suitcase was hanging from a tree branch."

#i used a translator 🫢#hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #hxh

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owlespresso · 8 months

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kuras meets a strange critter. 800 words. my specific mc and not a reader-insert. feel free to blacklist "a strange horse" if you don't want to see any other my mc-specific posts.

Kuras picked up a woman, half dead, in the wastes, and now she is unconscious on his only cot. Still breathing, despite the wide gashes and recently-reattached arm. Precious few were bold—or foolish enough to trek the wastes to make it to Eridia. While he regrets the unkind fate the caravan was met with, he is grateful that he managed to save a life.

He had thought her a mere girl, at first. A child, so small. Her unconscious form, half-submerged, had been coddled by the bodies of no less than five Soulless. Had the travelers taken up arms, managing to slay a handful before their inevitable deaths? Killing one of the accursed beasts was an impressive enough feat for a group of ordinary folk. Had she not been bleeding out her life by the lungful, he would have liked to remain and inspect the scene.

Saving a life, he decides, is more important than sifting through broken remains and corpses torn asunder.

She snaps up from her rested position in one, violent motion. The blankets are tossed to her waist. There’s a wild, hunted look in those wide eyes as they dart around his office, before finally landing on him. He’s completely frozen, thumb wedged still between the corners of the pages he’d been swiping through.

“Do not be afraid,” he begins.

“I’m not.” she says, before he can continue. He wouldn’t fault her if she was. Alone, a woman bare in a stranger’s room. It’s perhaps common sense to be afraid. He wonders if it is sheer naivety that drives her to trust him immediately. Or, maybe, she is an exceptional judge of character. He smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Good. I suggest you take things slowly. I healed the bulk of your injuries, but some soreness may remain…” he elaborates.

“No. I feel fine,” she says, and Kuras realizes that her eyes must naturally be that large. Wide, but betraying no emotion. Not unintentionally. Like the glazed eyes of a lamb. There is not an ounce of distrust, there. No contempt or suspicion towards the stranger she has woken up naked beside.

“That is a relief to hear, given the state I discovered you in.” “Rarely does the Fogfall permit any survivors. I am grateful I discovered you when I did. Any later, and you would have been beyond help.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“After enduring such an injury and being such a model patient, I think you have at least earned that,” Kuras says, smiling.

“What are you?”

Kuras stops smiling. What a peculiar query. He could perhaps brush it off as a slip of the tongue, borne of the haze that comes with awakening from deep sleep, but he realizes that there is an intention to the question. A purposefulness.

“I am a doctor,” he informs her, slowly and carefully. Does she see him, somehow, for what he truly is? Does she see the sickly gold cracks in his shell, where the light of his yolk seeps through? Rarely, mortals are possessed of a rare, inner sight. A sixth sense for what does not belong. He cannot discern truly if she is among their number, but she mercifully does not question him further.

“And this is your office?”

“Yes,” he says, and a soft silence settles between them. He lets it rest for a beat. “Might I ask your name?”

“Horse.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name.” she clarifies. Very helpfully.

Kuras, across the long ages he has lived, has had the privilege of meeting an endless catalog of individuals. He has encountered nearly every name under the sun, but never has he heard of a person named Horse. He can only wonder what kind of parents this strange creature must have had.

“Well. It is very nice to meet you, Horse.” he smiles, and the interaction plays out. Horse is a person who doesn’t quite fit into the shape of one, he thinks. He’s encountered those socially inept, those inexperienced in the ways and mannerisms of their fellows. This is something different.

“What have you come to Eridia for?” he asks. “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“Help.”

“Can you elaborate? I cannot aid you if I know not what ails you.”

“No.” A beat, she looks apologetic. “Sorry.”

Most of her responses follow a similar trend. Short and to the point, betraying no excess detail and rarely showing exceptional amounts of emotion. In the end, he discovers that Horse is:

has come to the city of Eridia in search of help for a problem she will not disclose to him, at the moment

has no contacts in the city, nowhere to stay and no idea where to start looking

is named Horse

Sensing there’s very little he’ll be able to do for her, at least at the moment, he directs her to the person he knows will be weakest to her large doe eyes and sympathetic situation. Leander. She thanks him politely, mustering the gusto to actually look him in the eyes for a fleeting second before she scurries out the door. She flees with such urgency, but it shuts so gently and quietly behind her. Kuras has a feeling, a sensation he cannot ascertain the origin of, that he has just released something onto the streets.

#kuras/mc #kuras x mc #kuras #a strange horse #touchstarved talkin

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peppermintschnapps · 3 months

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i just rewatched silence of the lambs, and i never quite noticed that there's a scene at the very end -

when catherine is rescued and they're taking her away from the house, wrapped in a shock blanket: they then try to take the little white dog (precious) away from her - and catherine pulls away gently and says "no." she won't give him over.

the shot is already honing in on clarice at this stage and so they don't really draw any attention to catherine's little gesture. idk i just really appreciated that moment. i like to think now that she was somehow allowed to keep precious and take him home after her ordeal.

#silence of the lambs #darla the dog #i guess #shutup kristina

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years

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Salt on the wound, Krulu finds a gift you planned on giving him, before he killed your spirit, with a sweet note too

And your husk just stares at him, with no emotion

[Anon this is good shit.]

It's beautiful.

A small raven figurine made of finely ironed strips of metal, each feather well-thought out, even the tail ones held a level of immaculate precision and attention to detail he can appreciate. Featuring an elegant obsidian pigment with shines of purple and blue to highlight specific sections as well as precious light gems for eyes. This is something you must have spent months making. For him, it would have been a blink of an eye, but for someone unskilled and clumsy- As all lessers are, naturally, it would have taken a small eternity.

A raven.

One of his favorite avian lifeforms. You paid attention to his ramblings...

Krulu wasn't meant to find this, that much he can tell. You generally weren't very good at hiding things from him, and how could you ever be, when he was suffocating your every thought. But somehow, in some way, you were dedicated enough to act quickly during the higher's attention lapses. It was tucked away in the break floor, a place he's seldom ever physically ventured to. Clever. Krulu wishes, from the depths of his charred heart, that he still had your memories. So he could see you make it through your own eyes, relish your sentiments. But he has nothing now.

Just the emptiness of his own thoughts echoed back to him infinitely.

Two hands cradle the figurine as if it's the most delicate artifact in this world. As if breathing in its direction will cause it to crumble like sand between his fingers. He strokes the metal feathers pensively while his upper set of arms lingers in the air, almost unwilling to establish contact with the folded black note that had sat beneath the statuette. Krulu takes a deep breath, grounds himself for what must have been minutes of putrid silence, and finally opens it.

" To my lord and guide,

Every day I am at your service I find new meaning in my life. My love and admiration of you is endless, I only wish that I was verbose enough to properly express it. Although my fingers are not as nimble as yours and my own mortality limits my understanding of art- I hereby offer you this admittedly flawed yet heartfelt offering, in honor of all the moments we shared and will continue to for as long as I am able to please you.

With all my heart and soul,

Your chosen. "

...

A wave of sickness courses through Krulu's entire frame so thoroughly that he sincerely has to cover his mouth for a moment. Then a breeze settles. Cold, frigidness, icing over his limbs, penetrating his hide and stabbing straight into his soul like a million shards of glass. He has to set both things down and look elsewhere, plagued with his own guilt, with the reality of what he's done, of how he's just perpetuating the misery previously inflicted onto him.

Because he was broken into that cycle. He's so unhinged and so irrational- He took so much damage in his time inside the void that he can't function anymore. He's blind to others, their care, their limits, their adoration.

You loved him.

You worshiped him.

And Krulu just couldn't notice it. It was never enough. He took you for granted and he abused his own vessel. As if such a simple little mortal could heal him, could fix centuries of pain. You tried to mend his woes and Krulu chewed you up like a piece of gum. Spat you out broken and demanded more. You were always there nonetheless, always willing to let him scar your frail body, always ready to degrade yourself for his amusement. Yet, he's so terribly weak and insecure, that the one time you defended yourself- He snuffed you out.

Eventually, his wide slitted eyes find yours, just as vapid and glazed as they have been for the last couple of months. Krulu forces your barren body to walk towards him, each step a mockery of the human walk cycle.

" Did you make this for me, lamb? " He murmurs, voice shaking.

Naturally, there is no response. Because there is no one there.

The higher takes your head in his hands, fingers combing through your hair in the gentlest manner he's ever handled you, ironically. You haven't aged a day since that moment. Haven't shed a hair or broken a nail, your body is stuck in a complete sullen and vapid stasis. And it'll remain so for as long as he can bare to look upon you. In a moment of selfishness and endless vulnerability, the higher crouches further and presses his thin lips to your own static pink ones. You stare ahead, way past Krulu, way past this world.

It only makes him feel more nauseous.

Shaking with repressed emotions, with the cumbersome weight of his deeds clawing at him, Krulu uses all six arms to cage your lifeless, puppet-like form against his curled one. There is no warmth there, no steady heartbeat, no shifting of skin- No hands to grasp him back, no smile against his flesh, no joyous laughter.

There is only nothingness.

The same cold, silent oblivion he once fought so hard to escape.

Birds scatter, the entire Clergy shakes thunderously.

An old god weeps.

#Krulu oc #I guess we're hopping on the feels train today

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